


Honeymoon

by keirajo



Series: Random Transformers Works (multiple generations, etc.) [12]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - School, I don't think this qualifies as a relationship yet, Leadership, M/M, Rivalry, not quite virgin night, relationship of some sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23005222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: After an incident on Cybertron, basically perpetrated by the Quintessons, both the Autobots and Decepticons are a little desperate for Energon…………..and both sides wind up sending their leaders to Marga.   Marga is a unique planet that can be likened to "continuing education for leaders and those in leadership ranks".   They will ONLY negotiate with the leaders of factions, planets and so forth.   It's not Galvatron's thing and Ultra Magnus has only very reluctantly let the new, young Rodimus Prime go along.Shenanigans will happen...……...and something else might happen, too.
Relationships: Galvatron/Rodimus Prime
Series: Random Transformers Works (multiple generations, etc.) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1250396
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on ongoing stuff in my main series, but have taken a slight breather to do a few short works. I hope you enjoy them until I have the chance to post "Astray" and "Compulsion" in the near future. :)
> 
> This takes place right after the G1S3 episode, "Dweller in the Depths" for reference.
> 
> And also...……...it's based on a dream I had, but only super-basically. I mean, I'm not certain I could place Galvatron and Rodimus in a high school setting, that was also a creepy hotel (hey, I don't get how dreams work either) and they're fighting monsters. I just kinda took the premise and made it a bit more G1S3 believable. XD

**_ Honeymoon _ **

Rodimus Prime had arrived on Marga sometime in their capital city’s “ _overnight hours_ ”—so, he was directed to a habitation suite and left to recharge. Marga was a strange, _strange_ world. The priority of political and extraterrestrial interaction was entirely based upon your rank. Not on money, not for power—but **_rank_**. In fact, in regards to Cybertron and the Autobots, they said they would meet with _no one less_ than the Autobot Leader himself.

Ultra Magnus had tried to protest and say that it was inappropriate for their new, young leader to go to negotiations on any foreign world without proper protections and assistants. The Margans said a very firm “ ** _no_** ” immediately—it was that _Rodimus Prime came alone_ or there would be no negotiations with the Autobots or Cybertron whatsoever. There was an orbital platform where Rodimus Prime’s party of followers might wait for him, but only the Autobot Leader himself could come down to the planet for negotiations and interviews.

The Autobots had gone there because they really, _desperately_ needed a quick source for making some Energon in the short term. The Quintessons’ buried little pet project in the depths of Cybertron had cost them the new Energon Conversion Platform. That meant the little resources Cybertron had were currently blocked—some Energon was being shipped from Earth for emergency use, but with Autobots scattered throughout the Galactic Alliance worlds and between Cybertron and Earth, it was difficult to make sure everyone got a proper amount of fueling at the moment.

Marga had a resource which could make plenty of Energon for them, _for the short term_ , so Rodimus Prime said he would go and negotiate for it. He would respect Margan terms and customs and get the source for Energon from them, to stave off immediate fuel deficiencies. Ultra Magnus was absolutely terrified to send the new, young Autobot Leader to a planet _all alone_. 

However, he wasn’t terrified of Rodimus being in any danger, of course—no, _the Autobots’ Second-in-Command was terrified of the flame-colored mech making a massive intergalactic interaction faux pas_. The young Rodimus Prime’s own feisty attitude may not always be welcome in many societies and one such as this, which would only interact with **_LEADERS_** , they surely had some excessively high standards!

The Margan species were diverse in skin colors, but their bodies were all basically built in much the same way. They had four arms, were very tall (though _not as tall_ as the average Transformer!) for an organic species and had a linear set of eyes with something resembling a gemstone in the center of their foreheads. They had long, pointed ears that curved back towards the base of their skulls and many had colorful gemstone piercings all along the ear ridges. Their skin colors could range the full variety of the color spectrum and the mane of hair atop their heads, kept at many varying lengths and styles, could also be almost any color of the spectrum. (Though Rodimus suspected a number of them were _dyed a favorite color_ , rather than were actually one of their natural hair colors……..!)

He rather liked looking at them. Seeing such vibrant and variation of colors everywhere his optics roamed made him feel happier inside. Currently, Rodimus Prime was following an administrator to a conference room. As had been explained to him, there would be tests that the young Autobot Leader would have to take, to prove he was indeed the leader of his people. After the various tests had been taken, then there would be a personal interview and then negotiations were the final thing after that. It was a three-day schedule for him, so Rodimus hoped that Springer and the others wouldn’t get bored on the orbital platform waiting for him.

The one thing that Rodimus Prime _wasn’t expecting whatsoever_ was right there awaiting him in the conference room.

Red optics darted in his direction almost immediately as soon as the flame-colored mech had entered the room. Rodimus stopped in his tracks and politely tapped the administrator’s shoulder. 

“ _Um, excuse me_. You do know that………..well, _that guy_ is Galvatron, the Leader of the Decepticons and he’s not really a very nice guy………?” The flame-colored mech murmured softly, starting to feel very nervous as Galvatron stared at him for several moments, sneered, and then went back to the computer in front of him.

“Yes, we are quite aware of that. And of his, _rather colorful_ , reputation,” the blue-skinned male Margan said, glancing over his shoulder at Rodimus. “He is here for much the same thing you are—to negotiate for the minerals that can be used to create your Energon substance.”

What in the universe was Galvatron doing here……….instead of plundering a planet somewhere trying to get it? It was even stranger to see the powerful warmachine muttering at the computer in front of him as he worked on taking one of the many tests that this administrator had prepared Rodimus Prime for. The Decepticon Leader was so out of place, here, and doing all of this—to get Energon, clearly, of course. But what would Galvatron even negotiate with? Well, likely the Decepticons had stolen some kind of currency, somewhere in one of their many plundering schemes.

Galvatron taking a written exam about leadership just made Rodimus’ mental stabilizers do a thousand checks for issues in the system. It was weird. The young Autobot Leader had a hard time comprehending Galvatron sitting still long enough for _this_ ………

The administrator took Rodimus Prime over to a seat across the large conference table from Galvatron and set up the computer for him.

“Take your time, there is no real time limit—you have at least half the day to finish this test and then there will be a physical test later this afternoon,” the administrator said, then he left the room.

Rodimus started looking through the test questions and his processor went even crazier trying to figure out just how _Galvatron_ would answer half of these things! He glanced over and saw Galvatron still focused and muttering, but the Decepticon Leader’s EM field was showing plenty of annoyance and frustration.

“ _Um_. You okay over there, Galvatron?” Rodimus Prime asked, trying to be friendly.

“I do not know why they could not have created this test in Cybertronian. The organics’ weird glyphs make very little sense to me,” the purple-and-grey mech growled.

**_Oh_**. Galvatron was struggling to read the Galactic Standard that the test was written in. It did appear to be mostly a multiple choice kind of test, with an optional text box in case you wanted to explain a specific answer. Which meant, they expected some of the oddest of answers to be chosen. Galvatron could _speak_ Galactic Standard, but it was very obvious he cared not about reading it—it was probably a lot easier to yell out threats and orders to other species if they understood you and there was no need to give them written lists of rules if you could yell those right out at them.

“You want me to read the questions for you?” The flame-colored mech asked, smiling over the top of the monitor over at his rival leader. Galvatron simply growled obscenities at him and remained focused on the test. “ ** _Oh_** , so I hear you’re here to get Energon, too— _how come_?” Rodimus asked, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted as he started answering questions on the test fairly easily.

“ ** _Bah!_** Cyclonus said that we are starting to face more resistance than ever, so it would be easier on us if we could _negotiate_ for Energon sometimes,” Galvatron snapped. “Read me question number six, Prime!” He snapped, glaring over the top of his monitor over at the flame-colored mech.

_That_ sounded like Cyclonus, right there. The Decepticons’ Second-in-Command knew that sometimes things needed to be handled differently than Galvatron aiming his nova cannon at it and firing. If the Decepticons were still fairly hurting for Energon and they were encountering more resistance on some worlds they tried just taking it all from—likely due to the increased Galactic Ranger Patrols through all systems—Cyclonus would say that they would have to try **_asking_** for Energon a few times, just to make sure the Decepticons got some kind of fuel into their systems. And explaining that fuel-hungry troops were more of a burden than useable on the battlefield would be something that even Galvatron could understand.

“If you encounter a commander of a military unit that has a higher rank than admiral, how would you treat them in a parley on the battlefield?” Rodimus Prime read, chuckling softly.

“ ** _Fools!_** Ranks higher than admirals _never_ take the battlefield themselves! That is why they strive to achieve that rank, _so that they may avoid battle completely!_ **_Pit_** —even admirals try to avoid the battlefields!” Galvatron roared, banging his fists on the table.

Galvatron clearly understood military workings, however—he never kept back from battle himself. And by his own statement, **_he_** should try to avoid battles and everything, because he would have a rank higher than any admiral! But Galvatron loved to fight and most of the time, he really didn’t care who he fought, either.

“Then you could probably click choice four of the multiple choice options and write in the box what you just said to explain your answer choice,” Rodimus Prime said, helpfully.

Galvatron grumbled and began to type _very slowly_. Then he glanced up at looked at the flame-colored mech, with a more normal look on his faceplate. “That is appreciated, Prime,” he answered, nodding and focusing back on the computer screen in front of him.

It had gotten fairly quiet and Galvatron’s muttering and soft cursing had become a constant background noise as Rodimus Prime filled out the test pretty easily. So much of this stuff were things Ultra Magnus had taught him, though he went with his instincts on a few questions and used the text box to explain his answers on them. Soon, he wrapped up the test and sent the message that he’d completed it. Then he stretched and stood up, walking around to Galvatron’s side of the table.

Galvatron had only picked and chose questions throughout the exam to answer first—probably the easier of the Galactic Standard he could read. The young Autobot Leader kind of felt sorry for the purple-and-grey mech. This really wasn’t the Decepticon Leader’s thing and he was clearly struggling. Cyclonus must’ve threatened Galvatron with something important to be able to get his leader to relent to negotiating here on Marga. And the Decepticons must be completely starving for Cyclonus to even be able to make the demands that Galvatron relented to.

“Here, let me translate the other questions for you, it’ll go faster,” Rodimus said, softly. He pointed to a question on the screen, read it and the multiple choice answers—then he let Galvatron answer it as he wished. He continued to do that for the remainder of the questions Galvatron had left blank—and before they knew it, the Decepticon Leader had finally finished the written exam.

“ _It is about damn time!_ **_Ugh_** , I have been in here all morning struggling with this idiotic organic language!” The grey-and-purple mech snarled, pushing back the chair and getting up to pace the room with his ire boiling over into his EM field. “The universe should have _one single language_!”

Rodimus chuckled softly, because _that’s_ what Galactic Standard was really trying to be after all—Galvatron probably thought the universal language should be _Cybertronian_. Frankly, it would be nearly impossible for over half of the organic species in the universe to **_SPEAK_** Cybertronian—and glyphs were rather difficult to even write for some Cybertronians, much less other alien species.

“How come you didn’t try some sort of deception thing and send Cyclonus in your place? You know, like promote him to Decepticon Leader for a few days and send him here for you?” Rodimus asked, placing his servos on his hips and watched the bulky mech pace like a wild animal in a cage.

All of the sudden, Galvatron’s optics locked on him and he stopped pacing. He made a growl and said a few choice cursewords. “ _I should have thought of that_. It would have been far better if I had relented my position a few days and allowed Cyclonus to handle all of this,” the powerful Decepticon Leader snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

Rodimus Prime had a feeling that Galvatron’s pride made him accept doing it, rather than trying to do devious plotting to get around it. After all, the powerful warmachine was very enthusiastic about his position as Leader of the Decepticons. He was extremely proud of his power and his position.

“You, however—I am rather surprised you are being allowed to go somewhere _by yourself_ ,” Galvatron said, suddenly, making a sharp dig at Rodimus’ already rocky self-esteem.

“Yes, well. As you can understand— _I kinda have to_. They only let the **_leaders_** come to Marga—there are some Autobots and a ride home waiting for me at the orbital station,” Rodimus answered, trying to keep his EM field firm and neutral, even though he was inwardly hurt that even Galvatron recognized he was being excessively over-protected by Ultra Magnus. “Look, it isn’t as if I don’t want to participate, but with us just having lost a leader recently—I don’t think they want to lose me so soon.”

“ _You will never grow if you are not allowed to experience life!_ ” Galvatron snapped.

“ _Try telling that to Magnus! I’ve tried telling him **that** , but……..!_” Rodimus Prime yelled back.

“Rodimus Prime, Galvatron—would the two of you care for rest and refreshment before your physical examination in two hours?” A voice said, very loudly (loud enough to be heard over the two mechs yelling) over a loudspeaker in the room.

The two Cybertronians shut up and answered “ _yes_ ”, before leaving the room and being directed to some sort of meal-eating area. The Energon that was prepared for them was the most delicious Energon either of them ever tasted—which showed even a foreign species could have their best interests at heart. To Galvatron, it made him try harder to focus and win these negotiations—the Decepticons would praise him forever if he brought Energon like this home to them. To Rodimus, he just hoped he would succeed—so that Ultra Magnus wouldn’t lecture him for failing…….. _he couldn’t take that_ , not so soon after the last time……….!

“Your field shows you are melancholy, Prime. You should not allow your minions to harass you so, you are their commander— _do not allow them to bully you_!” Galvatron said, very sharply, finishing his glass of Energon and rising from the table.

“The Autobots are not like the Decepticons, Galvatron—things are different for us,” Rodimus said, slowly drinking his own glass and trying to better lock down his EM field. Either that or Galvatron was ridiculously oversensitive to fields!

“ _Tch!_ ” The purple-and-grey mech snorted, stomping off and leaving the cafeteria.

The next exam was in an hour, Rodimus Prime had no clue what Galvatron was going to do until then.

* * * * *

The next exam was a _physical one_ —Rodimus had expected some sort of combat situation, but the administrators (the one guiding Galvatron as well as the one guiding himself) said their stadium would not hold up to one or two Cybertronians battling in it. Their destructive potential and fallout were not things the Margans wanted to deal with, so they had come up with a simple version of the Earth game resembling chess. It was not as physical as it should have been, but given the situation, at least it was a minimal amount of physical exercise. Galvatron had been extremely disappointed, though, especially since he was hoping to be able to _fight-slash-beat_ Rodimus Prime.

But Galvatron did understand the rules of the holographic militaristic combat situation. He grasped them more easily than Rodimus had. Once the holographic pieces had their military labels on them, the Leader of the Decepticons began setting up his troops into combat regimes on his area of the field—far, far easier than the young flame-colored mech anticipated. Rodimus Prime had to review the rules twice and understand some of the ranks that he was unfamiliar with before he was able to set up his field.

Galvatron was a master at deploying troops, it made Rodimus Prime wonder why the Decepticon Leader had never shown such combat prowess before. Usually he was just snapping out short orders as he waded into battle himself. Maybe he felt the Decepticons should be able to fend for themselves in combat? Or maybe he felt it pointless to have to issue orders every second of fighting. If Galvatron used some of these skills on the battlefield—the Autobots might not ever have a chance to win. The Decepticon Leader may be a madmech, but he was a genius tactician—the young flame-colored mech almost wished they’d had the physical combat instead, _he might have stood a chance_!

He lost the combat session, so he wasn’t sure where that made him stand with the negotiations. The final scoring wouldn’t be given until the last day, after negotiation sessions.

The administrator attending the young Autobot Leader walked him back to his guest quarters and saw that Galvatron was only down the hallway from him. The Decepticon Leader was pacing in front of his door with a digit to his audial area—that meant he was probably conversing with someone like Cyclonus. He wasn’t yelling, so that was a good sign—however, the flame-colored mech could feel frustration in his EM field, even at the distance he was at. Not agitation or anger type of frustration, just more or less that he was bored, it seemed. Rodimus Prime thanked the administrator and stood outside his door, just watching Galvatron pace.

This whole day had been so strange and unusual—Galvatron **_here_** and not really acting like the Galvatron he was used to. A Galvatron stupid to not know Galactic Standard and needing a translator, but a Galvatron absolutely brilliant in war tactics. Even the madmech known as the Decepticon Leader clearly had depths he never really cared about showing much. Just what was Cyclonus holding over Galvatron to make the mech relent to coming here and enduring these exams to negotiate for Energon? Could Galvatron even last the two more days required to even get any Energon? Tomorrow would probably ignite a frustration level, since he’d be sequestered with an administrator most of the day, who would be conducting a personal interview—in order to get to know Galvatron as a leader of his people. The third day would actually be the negotiating portion—that was two days of sitting in a room with an organic alien talking to him for hours!

Rodimus couldn’t even picture Galvatron sitting still and being questioned like **_that_** , but he _had_ endured the written examination earlier. Grumbling about it the whole time, yes, but he had managed to sit still and he took the exam—even though he struggled reading it and writing his answers in Galactic Standard. Whatever Cyclonus had threatened Galvatron with must be pretty important if the Decepticon Leader was going to go against all of his nature and endure all of this.

Suddenly, Galvatron ended his communique and glared straight at him. Rodimus shook himself free of his contemplation and reached for the touchpad to open his room door, when suddenly a huge presence overwhelmed him and grabbed his wrist.

“Why were you spying on me, Prime?” The grey-and-purple mech growled deeply, his powerful engines almost roaring with his high energy level right now.

“ _I wasn’t!_ I was………..I’m just surprised you’re still here. _This is totally not your thing_!” The flame-colored mech cried, whimpering because Galvatron was doing some crush-damage to his wrist.

Galvatron noticed the whimpering and looked at his servo, then he let go of the young Autobot Leader’s wrist quickly. He made a growling, muttering curse under his breath. “I did not mean to damage you—I _cannot_ risk losing this negotiation. My Decepticons _need_ Energon and we cannot currently fight for it. I must endure and bring my Decepticons fuel,” the grey-and-purple mech said, quietly. “This is, indeed, not my _‘thing’_. And it is very difficult for me to not lay waste to everything out of anger or frustration,” he added as he saw Rodimus Prime cower up against the door, holding his wrist.

The bulky purple mech reached out a servo and slid a few digits up along the side of the flame-colored mech’s pale grey faceplate.

“This is not your _‘thing’_ , either, is it?” Galvatron asked as his palm cradled the side of the younger mech’s faceplate in an almost gentle manner.

“ _But I can do it!_ I can show Magnus that I’m the leader _the Matrix chose—_ I’m not just a temporary or sudden replacement for……….!” Rodimus cried, softly. He didn’t even realize he was leaning into Galvatron’s servo so desperately.

“You are _not_ Optimus Prime—nor should you even try to be that mech,” Galvatron said with a huff of frustration and pulled away from the young Autobot Leader. “I had not realized how very young you are. _Tch_. Just because the Matrix made you look like an older mech……..” he said, reaching a digit out to brush a few of the facial ridges under the flame-colored mech’s optics, “……it does not make you an older mech. You are young and mistakes are how you learn to do things. You should be allowed to make the smaller mistakes, so that you never make a large one that can damage everything.”

It wasn’t fair that Galvatron _actually understood_ everything that Ultra Magnus didn’t. If anyone in the universe came to Rodimus Prime’s rescue in any way, shape or form—it should _never_ have been Galvatron. **_Never, ever_**. Life and the universe simply were not being very fair to the young Autobot Leader right now. And the flame-colored mech couldn’t help crying, because he simply couldn’t hold it all in anymore.

“Perhaps we can assist each other through this _‘thing’_ , that neither of us seem suited for?” Galvatron said, suddenly, pulling his servo away again.

And **_that_** only made the tears well at the microseams of Rodimus Prime’s optics even more than before, spilling over and running the length of his facial ridges. He didn’t want his savior to be Galvatron, because he knew there was no future in it for either of them. _It wasn’t fair—it wasn’t fair at all that only Galvatron recognized his struggle and that he shouldn’t be treated as Optimus Prime’s replacement!_

“I am puzzled at why you are crying so much, young Prime?” The Decepticon Leader said, softly, brushing away tears with his thumbs.

Rodimus Prime suddenly whipped a servo up, covering Galvatron’s optics, and then kissed him. Desperation trickled through his field and hesitantly brushed against the powerful warmachine’s own EM field. “ _We can’t_. And I didn’t just kiss you like I wanted to do it, either,” the flame-colored mech murmured, pulling away and desperately slapping his servo against the door panel’s touchpad. He skittered into the room and made it close quickly on Galvatron—so he couldn’t be tempted any further by something he should not ever wish for.

“Oh, Prime—that just makes you so much more intriguing. I have been told that playing _‘hard-to-get’_ is very sexy,” Galvatron chortled, his familiar voice echoing through the door, even as Rodimus Prime’s frame scraped down against it on the other side. “ _I think you have just proven that saying is quite true_!” He chuckled.

Then, mercifully, the powerful feel of the Decepticon Leader’s EM field moved away from the door. The further away it went, the harder Rodimus Prime began to sob into his knee-joints. He was alone and young and……..nobody believed in him except for his natural enemy. The universe was being incredibly unfair right now!

* * * * *

The Margan administrator who was guiding Rodimus Prime through this examination regime led him down to a private conference room. They sat across from each other at a table and the colorful alien gave the young mech time to compose himself, because it appeared the Autobot Leader did not sleep very well at all.

“How long have you been leader of your faction, Rodimus Prime?” The administrator asked, folding two of his arms before him on the table and steepled the hands of the other two arms in front of him. His blue skin was vivid, with a red gemstone in the center of his forehead, brown eyes and yellow hair with some purple streaks in it.

“Not very long. Optimus Prime died just about six months ago and we’ve mostly spent our time recovering and trying to rebuild on Cybertron,” the flame-colored mech answered, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. “For we Autobots, our next leader is sometimes chosen by the previous one, but often it is the will of our _heritage object_ —which we call the Matrix of Leadership. It is an object with a mystical sense, but functions primarily as a repository of knowledge.” Rodimus tried not to fidget as he answered the question in a rational manner—even though the Matrix was incredibly difficult to explain to non-Cybertronians. “Optimus Prime did not choose me, but the Matrix did.”

“What is it you would like to do as the leader of your people?” The administrator continued, typing in Rodimus Prime’s answers and smiling pleasantly as he continued the interview.

Rodimus tilted his head down and frowned. _What did he want to do?_ What kind of leader did he want to be for the Autobots? He knew everyone expected him to be Optimus Prime—to do everything that Optimus Prime had done for millions of years. Ultra Magnus…………it was hard to tell what the Autobots’ Second-in-Command wanted him to be. He lectured him and confined him and worried about him, but he rarely let Rodimus do what he wanted. Maybe Magnus was envious, since Optimus had chosen him?

But the Matrix hadn’t chosen Ultra Magnus.

Magnus probably still saw him as Hot Rod—young and impetuous. Rodimus Prime fought his own nature and instincts to try and be the leader that Magnus wanted him to be—he couldn’t always sit still and do things _that way_ , there were times when he just had to go and do it. Ultra Magnus might not even trust the young Rodimus Prime to be the Leader of the Autobots.

“The universe is very big and we Cybertronians were very isolated for millions of years. We either harmed or hated other species in the universe and it wasn’t fair, since now we’re expecting them to accept us immediately,” Rodimus began, thinking very carefully about his answer. “The memories of other races can be as long as ours and many have probably not forgotten damage we may have collaterally done to them during our war, simply because in our fighting we ignored all around us.”

The flame-colored mech watched the Margan administrator type away with the long-winded answer, but the background was needed for what the young Autobot Leader would say next.

“I would like to make it up to the universe, to court their forgiveness for our species—even if I have to take on the weight of the Decepticons still causing problems to do it,” Rodimus Prime explained, firmly. “I am trying my best to interact with members of the Galactic Alliance worlds, it was a large reason I asked to host the Intergalactic Games a couple months ago. I would have liked to have hosted them on Cybertron, but our world is in no shape to welcome company yet.”

“So, you would like the members of the Galactic Alliance to understand your species?” The administrator prompted.

“Yes. It isn’t easy and we are _‘big, scary robots’_ to the vast majority of the organic species in the universe—the Decepticons and their constant raids don’t help us Autobots further better relations in the universe, either, but………” the flame-colored mech trailed off.

“ _But_?” The administrator asked, very curiously, his red forehead gemstone suddenly glowing brightly.

“But I think they can’t help it, either. Our ancestors were programmed for specific functions and the ancestors of the Decepticons were programmed for war and combat. I don’t think they know how to _not be forceful_ ,” Rodimus Prime sighed. “I think Galvatron can learn something here, if he can endure it. But I’m not sure he can, he’s fighting his own desires and programming simply to sit still and be calm.”

“You’re worried for the leader of your rival group?” The administrator said, with the hint of a chuckle in his voice.

“I worry about him all the time. _For him_ , though? I think I’m worried what will happen when he finally loses all patience and can’t bear one more second of sitting still,” the flame-colored mech sighed. “I’ll do what I can to protect you all and prevent that disaster with everything that I am.”

Another soft chuckle from the administrator.

“You have decided to be a compassionate leader. Many will scoff at an empathic leader, but they have important places in the universe—if others will give them the chance to fulfill their entire potential,” he answered, smiling warmly at Rodimus Prime. “If I may make a recommendation to you, however? Try to find a little bit more firmness in your commands. Compassion is welcomed, but at times you might have to be harsh with someone and you shouldn’t worry or doubt yourself when you need to be harsh. Hurt feelings can be eventually soothed, but death and destruction can never be healed.”

Rodimus nodded and accepted the suggestion. He wasn’t sure he could progress to a point where he’d have to be like that, since he rarely had the opportunity to even be the leader that _he knew he could be_. He tried to picture himself being firm with Ultra Magnus and shook his head with a sigh, knowing that would never happen.

Eventually, the day finally came to a close. Rodimus Prime returned to his room and saw Galvatron standing directly in front of his door. The flame-colored mech pivoted on a pede and started to walk back down the hallway, when he found himself pressed to a nearby wall and kissed roughly.

It really would have been something to just give in, but it was a bleak future if he did.

Instead he pounded futilely on Galvatron’s chestplate and growled in his vocalizer. However his EM field told the truth where his brain was making him fight, even as longing curled up to Galvatron’s own EM field and told the powerful mech that he wanted more.

“It seems a waste to fight, since you cannot lie to me with that field of yours,” Galvatron chuckled, holding the flame-colored mech pressed to the wall and gazed down into the brightly glowing blue optics.

That was when Rodimus Prime suddenly realized just what Cyclonus was holding over Galvatron to make the powerful warmachine come here and suffer through all of this to get Energon. Galvatron, the Leader of the Decepticons, _was not getting any_ from his incredibly loyal Second-in-Command. Galvatron, the powerful and forceful Decepticon Leader was practically going “ _celibate_ ”—though it was certainly a very forced celibacy. Knowing Cyclonus, he was even preventing his leader from simply scooping up a random Decepticon and fragging them. _No interfacing until the negotiations were successful_ —that was probably 100% accurate of what Cyclonus was doing.

And if Rodimus Prime surrendered right now, it would wreck all of Cyclonus’ threatening and Galvatron may finally just say “ _frag it!_ ” and leave before the negotiations were done. Because, after all, he would’ve finally gotten someone to let him frag them—why should he then keep enduring this torture? Galvatron had gotten great Energon to fuel with here, it would no longer be a concern of the Decepticon Leader’s to simply abandon something he considered foolish, since he got some personal satisfaction and fueling in.

“You see, **_this_** is why I can’t. _You’re here for a reason, you dumbaft!_ ” Rodimus Prime suddenly growled and shoved his servo hard into Galvatron’s chin. “Screw around with me and you’ll wreck everything you’re working for! Everything Cyclonus is expecting you to do for your Decepticon troops!”

Rodimus Prime’s blue optic glass was unnaturally luminescent as Galvatron stared at his rival with surprise.

“You don’t want **_me_** —you want a valve to bury your spike in! _Frag off, you fragging lunatic!_ ” The young flame-colored mech yelled, making a sprint for his room.

Galvatron was taken aback for exactly one second, before he propelled himself after the Autobot Leader and pinned him against the door with his own frame.

“You may be right. But I shall _not_ let you defeat me, even in this,” Galvatron said, his voice very deep and very serious. “And I _do not_ mean the fragging. _I mean the negotiations_. I will prove to you that I am an excellent leader and I **_will_** show Cyclonus that I can do something for my troops—and not simply abandon a task when I am sated.”

“If I let you………..do you **_swear_** you will stay for the negotiations tomorrow and get your final exam results?” Rodimus Prime said, quietly.

“I will not leave until I hear **_your exam results_** , for I shall not allow you to best me, even in this!” Galvatron chuckled softly, leaning in and starting to bite gently at the back of the flame-colored mech’s neck-cabling.

_Galvatron and his ridiculous pride_. His desire to have to be the best in the universe. It was maybe his **_only_** likable trait. You had to admire someone who strove only to be the best every waking moment of every day. It was not in the warmachine’s nature to be lazy or subpar.

“It’s……. _mmmm_ …….it’s been awhile since I’ve……….. _uhhhnnn_ ……..last been with someone……….” Rodimus Prime gasped, feeling his knee-joints start to go weak and shaky.

“Then I shall go slow and we will enjoy it all night long,” the grey-and-purple mech said with a light chortle echoing in his vocalizer.

“ _Can’t_. Didn’t sleep well last night. _Need recharge_ ,” the flame-colored mech gasped, sharply and quickly, to make sure he said it before words abandoned him completely.

“Well, it **_is_** early yet today. So, we shall have a good evening and some into the night, and I will ensure you go to recharge at a proper time, my Prime,” the powerful purple mech responded, swiping his glossa wetly over the marks he just made with his fangs on the neck-cabling. “Invite me in, before I frag you against this door. And I feel you might actually allow me to, with the way you are weakening,” he added with a barking laugh. He pulled away long enough to slap Rodimus Prime’s aft and then grabbed his wrist to make the Autobot Leader’s servo touch the sensor plate.

The doors were programmed only with the guest’s servo or hand-print.

Rodimus Prime shivered and was caught by one of Galvatron’s arms, as his room door slid open before them. The flame-colored mech couldn’t help but feel like he was making the worst decision ever, but it was wonderful to finally be wanted by someone, _even if it was Galvatron_.

Galvatron stopped to make sure the door shut and locked properly, as it was meant to. All doors in the guest area auto-locked closed once they’d been opened. Then he continued over to the plush berth built by the organics and tossed Rodimus Prime onto it. The flame-colored mech began to grab the blankets and started pulling them over him, wanting to block out the world for what he was even considering doing right now. The powerful Decepticon Leader laughed softly.

“Prime, it is not as if you are not adorably appealing, but hiding will not make me forget that you are here and what I would very much like to do to your frame,” the grey-and-purple mech chuckled. “You claimed it has been awhile since you have fragged, so I can assume you are _not a virgin mech_?” He asked, grabbing the edge of a blanket and pulling it away from the flame-colored mech’s head area.

“ _Yeah. No. **I mean**._ Once and it wasn’t fun,” Rodimus Prime murmured, burying his faceplate in the pillow. “I thought it would be better and it was kinda hurty and boring……….so I didn’t wanna do it anymore.”

“ _Hmmm_ ,” Galvatron murmured, pulling back and crossing his arms over his chest. “So, your first time was awkward and more painful than necessary. Then I shall ensure that _this time is better_. It will be an experience for me and an exercise in maintaining the patience I will need to survive yet one more day on this stupid planet.”

Galvatron started pulling the blankets away even more, until he’d revealed all of Rodimus Prime’s familiar frame, which was radiating a light warmth. There was something appealing and unique about a frame that generated such a warmth like that—it could be coveted. The Decepticon Leader brushed a few digits along the center ridge of the sunbright yellow spoiler. But trying to tame and claim this young mech might destroy the truest rival Galvatron would ever have. No, for now it should merely be companionship for an eve— _and a brilliant night of pleasure_.

Rodimus dug his face deep into the pillow, if he looked at Galvatron, he’d lose all will whatsoever.

“Let us take a look at your array and see if you were even opened properly. If it hurt too much and felt boring, then you were not given the proper attention to truly activate your array,” the Decepticon Leader said in a low voice. He sat on the edge of the plush berth and faced towards the lower half of the young Autobot’s frame. He lightly slapped the flame-colored mech on the aft and tapped along the paneling that covered Rodimus Prime’s valve. “Open for me and let me examine you, so that I can be **_better_** than your last one.”

“ _I’m_ ………I’m kinda embarrassed and scared………..” Rodimus mumbled into the pillow. But after a few moments, he actually opened all the panels in his array. The grey spike only partially pressurized and the orange lights flickered weakly.

Galvatron frowned. The young mech was afraid of interfacing, so his drive wasn’t completely activated. The biolighting on the transfluid pressure line, regardless of a full spike pressurization, should pulse lightly—not flicker. There wasn’t any moisture on the mesh lining on the valve lips, even with interest (as the young mech showed by weakening under the Decepticon Leader’s kisses), there should be a light condensation of moisture along the edges of the mesh lining.

“I do not believe your activator rings were ignited properly—that would mean that your interface drivers and programs are not completely activated. Your first lover was either very selfish and cared only for their own pleasure, or they had just as little experience as you and did not properly break your seals,” Galvatron said, softly, lightly spreading the dry mesh lips of the younger mech’s valve with his first two digits. He looked through the folds and into the dark interior of his rival’s valve. Biolighting around the sensor clusters was very dim and flickering lightly. “Either way, it has not been done properly,” he muttered with a tone of disappointment.

“I really must be……………. _the worst you’ve ever had_ …………” Rodimus Prime sobbed into the pillow. Now, not only was he embarrassed, he was miserable.

“ _Certainly not_. Working hard for my pleasure will be an enjoyment of its own!” Galvatron chortled softly. He reached around and planted the palm of his servo in the center of Rodimus Prime’s chestplate and then flipped him over, just like a pancake on a griddle. “I think that once your interface drive has been properly activated, you will be incredibly sensual. _Then, have pity on whatever lovers you take after that!_ ” He laughed, gazing into the luminescent blue optics and grinning enough to show his fangs.

“I’m not a burden?” Rodimus Prime asked, hopefulness rippling through his EM field as well as toning his voice.

“Not at this moment. Learning about the frame and sexuality is an experience of its own. When those who frag have knowledge, you can merely get to it. However, learning the limits of pleasure is a challenge—and Galvatron, the Emperor of the Decepticons, always conquers what he challenges,” the purple-and-grey much responded, chuckling softly. “First let us see if I can start building up some charge in your frame—if we can start charge building, you may finally lubricate enough for me to enter you. I shall need you to lubricate so I can thrust in with charge and ignite your activator rings—after that, you should be able to interface normally.”

Rodimus frowned and reached to grab for the pillow and some blankets.

“You must stop hiding, Rodimus Prime—you must look at what we are doing and _accept your adulthood_. You are no longer a newmech and you should stop hiding behind your youth as if you are,” Galvatron said, firmly. He reached up and grabbed the flame-colored mech’s collar fairing, hauling him to a position of sitting up, with his back to the headboard of the large, plush berth. “ _Look_. An array for most of you mechs and femmes consists of the spikeplate and the valve opening. All have an aft and it can be used for pleasure, but I think we are far away from exploring that particular territory at the moment.”

“That’s all like basic stuff, yeah? But you said _‘most’_ —you’ve seen those who don’t have the normal stuff?” Rodimus asked, still grabbing a pillow and holding tight to his chest with both arms.

“I am only endowed with the spike function. I have fragged those who only have the valve function. I have seen a few mutated frames where the only option for interfacing pleasure is that aft opening,” Galvatron chuckled. “The variety means there is much to learn about increasing and enhancing pleasure in a frame. I am going to help you learn about what makes your frame feel pleasure and the various places you may use to stimulate yourself. First will be the anterior node—simple, it is not complex to reach and it takes intention to damage it. Touching, rubbing and pinching it stimulates it into creating charges. Some low charges will flow through your mesh and into your valve, which should start to stimulate lubrication.”

Galvatron moved his frame up, so that he was sitting next to Rodimus Prime, against the headboard, his frame turned slightly towards the younger, flame-colored mech. He reached a servo down and lightly rubbed his first two digits in the low crevasse that led up to the fold protecting the anterior node.

“You can possibly wear down the metallio-derma of the anterior node by rubbing too much, especially if it feels like you are going too hard and working excessively to feel pleasure. If it begins to ache or hurt, _you must stop_ , because it means you are not going to be able to reach an overload on your own—you are _too frustrated_ inside,” Galvatron said, nuzzling Rodimus’ neck-cabling. “The spike is very much the same way. You may stimulate it into an overload by touch, but too much may cause pain and ache—and that is when you should accept you **_cannot_** reach pleasure by self-service.”

“I think I’d be too embarrassed to do that………” the flame-colored mech murmured, tilting his head so Galvatron could nuzzle his neck better and start nibbling at it.

The bulky purple mech gave a light chortle and bit hard at a thick portion of the flame-colored mech’s neck-cables. “You would be surprised at how easy it is to want to perform self-service,” he responded, sucking on the bites he just made. His primary two digits were rubbing a circle around the area of the anterior node, rubbing lightly into the folds and isolating the node as it swelled and filled with low charge. Then he flicked the pad of one digit quickly over the blunt tip of the anterior node and Rodimus Prime gave a whimpering little cry as his frame twitched with surprise.

The young Autobot Leader gasped and pulled a hand up to grab one of the tines of Galvatron’s tri-point crowned helm, pulling him into his neck and mewling softly as Galvatron’s digits rubbed and flicked against his anterior node. He felt a strange, new heat suffusing his frame and he began to feel a light itch kind of sensation between his legs, in his valve. He twitched and moved his legs, trying to get more comfortable, but _nothing felt comfortable_ and the weird itch-thing was **_persistent_**.

“Let your field out, I can feel you trying to keep it down, but these organics cannot feel it—you are free to let it flare and show your true desires as much as you want to,” Galvatron chuckled, lightly. He pinched the anterior node gently and Rodimus Prime gave a tiny little squeal as he arched his back.

The young Prime’s EM field began flowing and rippling all around them, flared hot with desire and longing. And a slow, building need cutting through the desire and want. The nearby lamps on various tables in the room flickered as the field swept through the room and swirled around the berth. Galvatron blanketed his own powerful EM field all over the wild young Prime’s, pulling them both in and holding the sexually charged field close to both their frames. It seemed to feed back into Rodimus’ own growing need and his legs moved and twitched as he felt more and more heat gathering between his legs. The itch feeling was growing into something akin to throbbing, _he just wanted_ ………….he wanted something to make it all feel better, but he didn’t know what.

“Oh, my young little Prime— _you are going to be a monster when your array is fully active!_ ” Galvatron said, roaring with laughter. “ _Burn and burn brightly, Prime! Feel all of this and cherish it!_ ” The grey-and-purple mech said as he moved his frame around and yanked on the flame-colored mech’s legs, pulling him down so his back was flat on the plush berth and his servos were clamped firmly behind the young mech’s knee-joints. Then Galvatron opened his spike panel and let his thick, black spike pressurize to full. The crimson biolighting on the transfluid pressure line was an undying glow—no pulse, no flicker—it was solid and full of charge.

For a brief moment, Galvatron rested his large spike against the slightly damp mesh of Rodimus’ valve lips, he moved it a little bit, letting a little bit of his bottom edge sink into the mesh and gather lubrication into its ridges. Rodimus Prime’s body went oddly still, but heat gathered between his legs with a vengeance and he began sobbing, begging for it—even though he wasn’t completely sure what kind of “ _it_ ” he was begging for.

“Give me one moment, Prime—I need a little more lubricant from you, or I may do as much damage as the one who did not open you fully had done to you,” Galvatron said, firmly. “Rub your anterior node for me a little bit. Remember, as I had just done a few moments ago?” He asked as luminescent blue optics looked directly up into his faceplate. “Prime, my servos are full with holding onto your legs— _you must use your own_!” He laughed when he saw there was a clear look of puzzlement on the younger mech’s faceplate.

Rodimus Prime slowly reached down a hesitant servo and brushed the mesh fold around it, lightly. The node was swollen and firm—and it felt warm, because its biolighting was flaring bright. When he brushed the tip of a digit against it, he whimpered with the stimulation it sent through his systems and the itch-throb it seemed to make increase in his valve.

“Prime, you are merely new and sensitive—you will not harm yourself by rubbing it a little bit, I promise,” Galvatron said, his voice low and commanding. “But I need more lubrication down here or **_I_** may hurt you. Your valve wants to be filled, but without a full activation, it is not lubricating normally.”

Rodimus was surprised at how intuitive and patient Galvatron was while doing this. He’d have always thought that the wild madmech would just tear through everything and everyone to get what he wanted—and that interfacing would be a wild whirlwind of thrust and ejaculation. _Everything he’d seen from Galvatron while here on Marga surprised him, it wasn’t the Galvatron he thought he knew._ Had Galvatron been hiding his true self behind madness to make everyone underestimate him? 

With determination, the young flame-colored mech flicked the tip of his digit against the swollen anterior node and his entire frame shuddered with the heated sensations it surged through him. It was scary that it felt so very good. He pinched the anterior node and tugged on it, as he felt Galvatron gently rubbing his spike length lightly in the mesh of his valve lips. Then Rodimus rubbed the anterior node in a slow, circular motion that felt very, _very good_. His hips shivered and he wanted— _he wanted_ …………!

“There we go. Very good, Prime. I’m getting enough lubricant in my ridges that I should be able to enter you fairly safely in a moment,” Galvatron’s deep voice purred.

“ _Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnt_ ……..” Rodimus moaned, arching his back and offlining his optics.

“ _Ah-ha-ha! Yes, Prime, I know! Just another moment and I shall give it to you!_ ” Galvatron laughed softly. He rubbed his spike along the dampening folds a little bit longer and then he pulled his frame back and pushed the tip lightly against the opening. “Be ready, Prime—there is no going back after this!” The Decepticon Leader said, although he was aware that the young mech was so absorbed in sensations, he probably didn’t hear the words at all. Galvatron grinned and thrust hard.

The Decepticon Leader’s high charge hit the activator rings fully as he entered the valve and the whole inside of Rodimus Prime’s valve flooded with even more charge and fresh lubricant, as all of his interface drivers flared into life. The flame-colored mech’s body twitched and writhed on the plush berth, as a low moaning sound erupted from his vocalizer. The powerful warmachine was very pleased with himself for correcting somebody else’s error in awakening this young mech’s sexuality properly.

Overload for them both came again and again, like predictable waves on a beach. Until finally recharge was absolutely necessary for them both.

* * * * *

Rodimus Prime felt a whole lot different when he woke up to the first alarm trilling from the nightstand to the right of him. The first alarm meant he had an hour to get up and prepare for today’s final exam—the actual negotiations for Energon—there would be a second alarm when he had only 20 minutes left. The young Autobot Leader looked up at the ceiling and then around. He’d either had the most amazing dream he’d ever had—or Galvatron left sometime after he went into recharge.

It was strange to him that of everyone he’d ever interacted with, **_Galvatron_** actually treated him like a worthwhile person. They were destined to fight each other and yet, last night—Galvatron treated him like a precious treasure. The Decepticon Leader took the time to do lovemaking right, which the flame-colored mech had not experienced previously. He was energetic and indulged all of Rodimus’ desperate pleas on into the night.

There was a human—an Earthling—term for this. _It was like a honeymoon—passionate and perfect._ Learning about each other. It was just a shame that after the two leaders were done on Marga, it would be back to the war. Maybe Galvatron could easily switch gears back to war, but the fresh memories of what they had were destined to become scars deep inside of Rodimus Prime.

The young Autobot Leader sat up and looked at the damp, sticky and stained mess in the berth. He facepalmed himself—he was absolutely certain the Margans were not expecting anything like Cybertronian sex happening in one of their suites. None of these sheets would ever be able to be cleaned and reused ever again. Rodimus felt bad and resolved to speak to his administrator that he’d pay for replacement of everything. Then he felt the remaining aching throb in his array, his panels were still open and he was very sensitive—he’d better go get cleaned up, _right now_.

“Standing is apparently more difficult than I thought. _Wow_ ,” Rodimus laughed softly, leaning on a servo on the edge of the bed. So that was real interfacing, hunh? Yeah, his first time was nothing even close to what he experienced last night with Galvatron, that was for sure. He did manage to limp over to the shower room and get into the shower to get cleaned up. It would be nice to get back to Cybertron, where there was more than water in a washrack. Water was fine in a pinch like this, but it wasn’t enough to get his frame truly clean—even with their strange cleansing gels, which were definitely not formulated for metallic frames.

As soon as the young flame-colored mech got back out into the room itself, he was able to stand and walk a lot better, so he went over to the berth and began pulling the blankets and sheets off of it. He took all of the items and wrapped them inside the final fitted sheet item and tied it all together, dropping it off near the door, then went back to the berth. The deep staining wasn’t as bad as he thought, but he wouldn’t recommend the Margans continue using this mattress anymore. He took the mattress of the berth and set that near the door, too. He wondered how much it would cost and just how he’d explain _THAT_ expense to Ultra Magnus.

After he’d finished up all of his preparations in his room, then Rodimus Prime walked out to the floor lobby where his administrator guide was waiting for him.

“I heard Galvatron spent a lot of time in your room last night, I suppose I’ve learned something new about Cybertronians,” the blue-skinned Margan chuckled warmly.

“ _Uh, **yeah**_. About **_that_**. _Um_ , the blankets and sheets and the mattress should probably be completely disposed of. Burning is my recommendation,” Rodimus Prime laughed, nervously, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I wrapped it all up and removed the mattress and put it by the door, to make it easier. I’ll pay for the damages, I don’t know how to explain it to Magnus, but I’ll pay for it, I promise.”

“That can be discussed later. Today’s primary focus is negotiations,” the administrator said, smiling brightly up at Rodimus Prime. “Galvatron appears to be running a little late,” he added, nodding over to his fellow administrator, who was pacing on the far side of the floor lobby.

“I might have worn him out. Should I go get him? I wouldn’t want your fellow Margan to get hurt if Galvatron’s………?” The flame-colored mech trailed off, when suddenly a massive explosion of some sort seemed to rock the building. “ _What the heck was that?!_ ” He gasped as he, his administrator guide and the other Margan all dashed over to the window to look outside.

“I think the question is more like, _‘what the heck **is** that?’_. What is it? I have never seen anything like that before,” his administrator guide said as they all looked out the window to see a strange beast with cybernetics trashing the area around it outside of the exam administration’s building.

“It……… _that can’t be_ ……? What is it doing here? It looks like one of the Quintessons’ Transorganic beasts,” Rodimus muttered, softly.

“ _Priiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeee!!!_ ” Galvatron’s very familiar roar came from the end of the hallway, as a very familiar EM field came closer and closer until the powerful Decepticon Leader was practically breathing down Rodimus Prime’s neck-cabling.

“Galvatron. Nice of you to join us. _That_ isn’t what I’m thinking it is, is it?” He asked, pointing out the window at the cybernetic monster.

Galvatron looked out the window. “ _Quiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnteeeeeeeessssssssssssonnnnnssssss!!!_ ” He roared with fury, knocking everyone else away from the window so he could charge up his nova cannon and fire it.

“ _Galvatron! **Seriously!** What the hell…………you’re gonna blow up the entire campus—there are **innocents** here!_” Rodimus cried, springing forwards and wrapping his arms around Galvatron’s nova cannon. “And what if this is like the other one? What if it absorbs energy?” The young Autobot Leader hissed, dragging the powerful warmachine away from the window by the grip he had on the nova cannon. “Stop and think about it before you just rush in there………and if you destroy a bunch of Margans, what’s it going to do to your negotiations here? What about your Decepticons and the Energon they need right now?” The flame-colored mech snapped.

“ _Hnnngh_. Then what shall we do about this, Prime? And where are the Quintessons that set this thing loose here?” Galvatron growled, staring at his rival leader.

“It’s a good set of questions, but I think we’re going to have to go at this thing physically—we need to find out what it **_can_** do,” Rodimus said, looking out the window. “It doesn’t appear to be draining anything, so I don’t think it’s an energy vampire beast like the one on Cybertron. But all of the Transorganics had specific functions and special skills. Like the weird gorilla one had super-strength that kept increasing with each enemy it defeated.”

“ _I defeated it!_ ” Galvatron snapped.

“ _You blasted them all, until the energy vampire was shown to absorb your blasts!_ ” Rodimus Prime snapped back. He gazed out the window and watched the cybernetic beast lumbering around in the plaza area. It had about twelve tentacles from the two arm areas—it reminded the young flame-colored mech of the scientist Quintessons, where the tentacles came from parallel arm areas, rather than gathered along the bottom ring of a Quintesson judge’s body. It had a frame that was something like an Allicon—the higher-level Sharkticon guards that had a kaijuu-like form in alt mode—including a longer snout, but there were multiple optics on each side of the rectangular head. Of course, this particular thing also happened to be _daikaijuu-sized_ as well. “ _Ah_. It has three-sixty viewing. I’d be willing to bet it also has multiple viewing types, such as infrared and x-ray.”

“You are figuring something out, Prime?” Galvatron asked, looking down at the monster and frowning.

“It’s going to see you, no matter what angle you come at it— _there’s no blind spot_. I’m thinking some of those glass-orb areas on the body itself are also optical sensors,” the flame-colored mech answered, drawing Galvatron’s gaze to the dozen optics in its head as well as the multiplicity of reddish orbs along the arms, legs and torso. “Since it has so many optical sensors, _someone is paranoid about blind spots_ …………and also feels a need to examine everything from every angle. We _need_ to take out the optical sensors,” he said, looking over at Galvatron.

“ ** _Nnngh_**. There are so many of those optical orbs on its frame,” Galvatron muttered, placing his servos on his hips.

“I can take most of them out, but I need a distraction—or else it’s going to realize I’m sniping at it and come directly at this building,” Rodimus Prime said, folding his arms across his chestplate.

“ _Oh-ho! You are a sniper?_ ” Galvatron chortled, a feral grin showing on his faceplate.

“It **_is_** one of my special skills,” the flame-colored mech answered, seriously. “Can you keep yourself safe and distract it for me?” He asked, holding Galvatron’s gaze firmly.

“ _Pfft. Safe!_ Prime, there is nothing that can defeat me—though you have come the closest to doing so,” the powerful Decepticon Leader chortled, waving an arm before him, dismissively. Then he reached out and grabbed Rodimus Prime around the waist, yanking him close. He kissed the younger mech fiercely, until he felt surrender in the frame against him. “Until we meet again, Prime—whether after the negotiations or in the Afterspark,” he said, grinning at the flame-colored mech and then backed towards the window. The grey-and-purple mech gave a little salute before he leaned out backwards and fell out the window, activating his boot-thrusters after a few feet and flew into battle with the strange Transorganic beast.

“ _Tch, so dramatic_ ,” Rodimus Prime grunted, kneeling beside the window and propping an elbow against the windowsill. He summoned his rifle from its subspace pocket and braced it on his shoulder and began to take aim. He took out two optical orbs on the legs of the monster and its massive head swung in his direction, opening, and the flame-colored mech began to worry for some kind of elemental pulse attack—fire or plasma.

Then, suddenly, Galvatron swooped out of nowhere and blasted one of the largest optical orbs on the monster’s head and drove his fist down hard on top of the snout. It knocked the massive head down and the bottom jaw bounced on the monster’s chest as all the tentacles suddenly began flying at the Decepticon Leader.

After a heated twenty minutes, Rodimus thought he got almost all of the optical orbs, except a few and was about to send a communique to Galvatron to try and get the Transorganic beast into a better angle, when he suddenly received a communique from Galvatron himself.

**[Prime, I am looking at its chest and something seems to be odd about it. Sending you a view, please tell me something!]** The Decepticon Leader demanded, crossly.

Rodimus Prime offlined his optics to view the still that Galvatron had sent via a glyph message. He studied it for about 10 seconds on his HUD before he began laughing. “ _Oh, Primus! Oh, seriously……..Primus this is so very stupid!!!_ ” The young Autobot Leader snickered. **[Galvatron, I think I’ve found our Quintesson—that’s a piloting cockpit!]**

That was all Galvatron needed, as he flew directly at the chestplate of the beast and dug his clawed servos into the centerseam of the chestplating. He roared as he wrenched it open and grinned cruelly as he found the Quintesson scientist piloting the Transorganic monster from the inside. Galvatron grabbed the Quintesson by the face, digging his claws into the facial derma and ripped the Quintesson scientist out of the pilot seating. Then he dove to the pavement and slammed the Quintesson right into it.

The durable Quintesson scientist cried and begged and pleaded for mercy, not realizing that Galvatron _wasn’t_ the one he should be asking. Just as the powerful Decepticon Leader was about to slam the Quintesson into the pavement again……….

**[Galvatron, stop—he needs to be taken into custody and prosecuted. What if he’s got important information we should know?]** Rodimus Prime’s communique said, the familiar voice in his audial pleading and desperate.

As answer, Galvatron snarled, and threw the Quintesson up towards the window, where Rodimus Prime caught the five-faced being. Then the Decepticon Leader decided to take his fury out on the Transorganic beast, which seemed to be muddling about in confusion, making weird little mewling sounds. He grabbed the tail of the beast and flew up into the sky, then he whirled around, spinning to get enough momentum for a herculean throw. As soon as the Transorganic beast began flying out past the outer atmosphere, Galvatron charged his nova cannon to maximum and blasted the monster into cinders that were atomized in the atmosphere.

It was all done before Rodimus Prime could stop him from doing that, but at least they had the Quintesson. He’d say a prayer to Primus for the poor Transorganic beast that had very little to actually do with this attack. _It was clear that the thing was a baby—newly created and was only destructive, because the Quintesson scientist was acting as it’s brain._ The only thing they didn’t know was why, but the young Autobot Leader had a suspicion that he and Galvatron were the targets……….because why not take out the two leaders of their hated creations all at one time?

* * * * *

“Yes, you have heard properly—there will be no negotiations exam for either of you,” a red-skinned Margan, taller than either of the administrators that Rodimus Prime and Galvatron had been working with the past couple days were.

Rodimus felt it in Galvatron’s field (which he knew the Margans couldn’t possibly feel) and grabbed his arm to try and keep him seated—the Decepticon Leader was _infuriated_. But it may have been fated to come down to this, after all. Once the Quintesson had been revealed and the Margans confirmed there was no reason for a Quintesson to be here (no profit, in other words), it was clear the Quintesson was only here because of the Autobot Leader and the Decepticon Leader. All collateral damage rested on _their shoulders_.

“Is there anything I can do, to offer assistance for reconstruction or monetary recompense…….?” Rodimus Prime said, trying to keep his voice as even and neutral as possible. He wasn’t angry like Galvatron, but he was very disappointed, _because a failure was a failure_ —regardless of the circumstances. And it wouldn’t be easy to take this back to Ultra Magnus, even with a Quintesson prisoner in tow. “I’ll even pay for Galvatron’s portion. I know the Decepticons can’t afford to pay for it, but perhaps he could offer the assistance of the Constructicons in rebuilding……..?” The flame-colored mech added, gripping Galvatron’s arm very hard when he felt the ripples of fury continue through his EM field.

Rodimus Prime knew he was dead when he got back to Cybertron, because the Autobots couldn’t possibly pay for this, either. His grip tightened on Galvatron’s arm as he tried very hard to hold his own feelings of depression and disappointment out of his field, since he knew Galvatron would feel it. Although, Galvatron’s rage was drowning out his feeling of _anybody else’s_ EM field right now, even if they were pushing it up against him.

The Margan Head Administrator chuckled. “Ah, perhaps I should explain myself better,” he said, twining both sets of his hands with each other, in front of him on his desk. “There is no need for either of you to take the negotiations exam—you have done us a great service by protecting us from this threat,” he responded, smiling warmly at them. “We are waiving the negotiations portion of the exam and allowing you to pass—therefore we will welcome your purchase of the substances you need to produce your Energon and provide you services to create it as necessary,” he answered.

Galvatron’s infurated EM field died down almost immediately. Rodimus Prime actually exvented a deep sigh of relief. The flame-colored mech slowly let go of Galvatron’s arm and the powerful Decepticon Leader was almost disappointed to feel the heat of the young Prime’s touch leave him.

“ _Very well_. This is something I will accept, then. However, my Second-in-Command is the one who deals with funding and purchases. I must insist that you deal with **_him_** for the Energon,” Galvatron said, firmly, leaning back into the chair with a more relaxed manner. “How does this go, now? Am I given a tithe slip or something, to prove that I am able to acquire the Energon I have worked hard to negotiate for?”

Hearing an ancient term like “ _tithe_ ” from Galvatron made Rodimus Prime snicker softly.

“You will be given a receipt card. This receipt card may be used at the facilities on the orbital station by your Second-in-Command, to acquire the resources you have earned,” the Margan Head Administrator said, his winning smile never once leaving his face. “The administrator that has been guiding you through the examinations will have your receipt card to give you upon your exit from this room. Thank you for coming to Marga and participating in our leadership enhancement sessions.”

“ _Yes, yes……..of course_ ,” Galvatron said, hurriedly, standing up and walking quickly to leave the room.

“Thanks so much for letting me come here to take the exams, I learned a lot,” Rodimus Prime said, dipping his shoulders at the Head Administrator as he rose to his pedes.

The Margan Head Administrator smiled and offered one of his four hands to the young flame-colored mech. “Thank you for coming. Your fresh perspective on things has been welcome,” he responded, formally.

After the two Cybertronians had gone to the main lobby area of the building to meet with the administrators that have been guiding them, Galvatron was in a far better mood and his EM field was finally neutral, as always. The grey-and-purple mech took the receipt card from his Margan guide and nodded politely, then strode towards Rodimus Prime.

“It seems we shall have to prove which one of us is better in our next battle, Prime— _until then_!” Galvatron said, then walked out the doors and as soon as he was outside, he flew up into the skies and his form vanished as soon as he was past the outer atmosphere.

The Margan administrator who had been assisting Galvatron walked over to where Rodimus was standing with the administrator who had been with him the past few days. She was female (and how did Galvatron feel about **_THAT_**?!) and had purple skin, with a sky-blue gemstone in the center of her forehead, lavender eyes and white hair that had some pale, cream-colored streaks in it.

“He is an interesting one, that Galvatron,” she chuckled warmly. “He has no hesitation on anything. He believes he is absolutely right, even if he might possibly be wrong—there’s something to admire in a quality like that.”

“Well, he’s a tyrant, so he _IS_ always right,” Rodimus Prime said, wryly.

“Be that as it may, he has interesting visions for where he sees the Decepticons in the future,” she added, smiling at the flame-colored mech. “Yes, he intends to take Cybertron away from you _‘weak Autobots’_ and he wants to make it into a shining, enviable empire. But though he speaks about conquering everything, I think he does understand he needs to limit that sphere of desire. He knows he can’t possibly manage to rule everything, even if he wants it all.”

“ _Whoof_ ,” Rodimus chuckled.

They looked at him puzzled for the odd, Earthling exclamation. He just shook his head and laughed.

“However, he had interesting things to say about you. He may call the Autobots _‘weak’_ , but he doesn’t seem to think you are—he calls you _‘fire’_. You burn and blaze brightly,” the female Margan chuckled warmly. “In most species, I think it means he likes you. I don’t know what it means for your species, though.”

Rodimus Prime wasn’t sure what it meant for his species either. He thought that the strange bond between him and Galvatron had to do with their encounter inside Unicron—otherwise, they hadn’t really interacted before. Hot Rod was the young Autobot who came charging into a battle against a mech he knew he couldn’t beat………all to try and get the Matrix of Leadership back to where it belonged. Galvatron saw his ascension—his transformation into Rodimus Prime. Maybe something about all of that stuck out inside of Galvatron’s mind—even after his plasma baths on Thrull, that did lasting damage to his central processor. It was hard to tell, _Galvatron was Galvatron_ and it wasn’t always easy predicting him.

But, then, the kindness taken to show Rodimus Prime the true joys of interfacing—the night they spent last night, together. It didn’t seem like Galvatron at all, just like Galvatron coming here for Energon—enduring the strange exam courses to negotiate for it. These whole past few days was so un-Galvatron that maybe it was just Galvatron’s true unpredictability coming to the surface after all.

“Before you go, Rodimus Prime—I’d like to give you some highlights from your examinations,” the blue-skinned Margan that had been guiding him said. “I think you have great potential for leadership. You are young and untrained, so you will make mistakes. You should learn from them and follow your instincts. Your compassion guides you, but sometimes you will need to be very stern and very firm with others. I think if you can find a balance between your nature and the new position you find yourself in—you will become a great leader of your people.”

Rodimus exvented a deep sigh of relief. He really hoped that all of that could be true. He knew what he wanted and what kind of leader he wanted to be. He hoped the Autobots would give him the time and opportunity to do so. After thanking the Margans, he took his receipt card and turned to walk out the door, heading for the transport area to the orbital station. At least, if anything came out of this whole time, he got the Energon and Ultra Magnus couldn’t fault him for that.

But as he waited for his time to transport up to the orbital station, he thought of Galvatron for a moment, and brushed a few digits over his lips, smiling as he thought of the fierce Decepticon Leader and that last kiss before the fight. 

“ _Ah, Galvatron………you weirdo_ ,” the young Autobot Leader chuckled.


End file.
